


in love and war

by softjimon (banesexual)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Reality TV AU, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-04-22 04:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14301057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banesexual/pseuds/softjimon
Summary: When Simon and Jace sign up for the latest season of The Bachelorette they expect to be competing for Clary's heart, not each other's...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello !!! here is the infamous Bachelorette AU I promised like ten months ago ??? its based on the Australian version of the show bc thats the one I watch (yes, I am Trash) so hopefully there aren't many discrepancies
> 
> ~ @softjimon on tumblr

WEEK 1

It has come to Simon’s attention that he is somewhat of a disaster.

Not a hot mess like the kids are calling it but a fullblown _natural dating disaster_ , twisting and turning towards people until he's dizzily smitten. Because Simon collects crushes like coupons, cutting and folding them into these ideals that never truly exist. They're alive, sure, but he has a habit of overthinking and embellishing anyone who is even the slightest bit nice to him (seriously this guy held a door open for him one time and he thought about it for like three weeks...). He can’t help it if he likes everybody though, old fashioned optimism seeing the glints of good in people and magnifying them into something more. Something _unreal_.

Deep down he knows he only does it because he has a lot of love to give and an even bigger need to give it - and this whole time he’s just been searching for a worthy outlet.

He remembers Valentine’s Day all throughout grade school, covered in craft glue and glitter, handing out homemade hearts to everyone in his class _because nobody should miss out on love_. The almost all-nighter was always worth it when he saw smile after smile, knowing he was the one responsible. Only now feels like that one year, the first year, when he sat at his desk, waiting and watching as valentines were passed back and forth. That day he went home with the same crepe paper heart his mom made him and nothing else. 

But all that's about to change and it’s why he’s here: to find The One instead of number two, three or four...

Someone, somewhere, is calling his two minute warning and Simon takes a shaky breath, eyes falling shut on instinct. He can do this. Maybe the dating world has never been his friend but this has to be different. _It has to be._ Sure, it's a television show and probably the most drastic form of dating out there but desperate times call for desperate measures. And boy is Simon desperate for love. 

He opens his eyes and tries to focus, looking around at the excessive amount of rose petals and string after string of fairy lights. It should be blindingly beautiful, but right now he's on the wrong side of nauseated to appreciate any of it. This pre-date stress is what usually frazzles him but he can't afford to crash and burn, not now on national TV. He wipes his suddenly sweaty hands on the sides of his suit pants just as some guy with an earpiece cues him in.

And Simon has no choice but to walk – down the driveway, past the array of rosebushes towards what the romantic in him hopes is his future.

Of course, she’s stunning, fiery hair in curls cascading down her back. She’s wearing the trademarked red dress, so long it almost drags on the floor but Simon knows there’s people on standby for this very reason, ready to perfect her look after each meeting. A camera follows him down the driveway, and another two are zooming in from afar, catching his reaction from all angles. It’s hard to not notice how everything is orchestrated but The Bachelorette smiles as he gets closer and suddenly this whole thing seems very, very real.

“I’m Clary,” she says with a little wave and Simon wonders if this is it – the beginning of happily ever after.

“Lewis. Simon Lewis,” Simon says, sticking to his failsafe line and Clary laughs.

“Does that make me your Bond girl?”

Simon does the clicky-point thing he’s seen in the movies and grins. “We can only hope.”

And it’s a terrible impression, one he knows will be played on a loop under bumbly music when he inevitably gets booted out two episodes later, but at least it’s  _something_ , an impact to outlast the sea of blonde and blue following him.

They talk for only a minute or two but it’s easy, like maybe they already knew each other on some level and it’s enough to put Simon at ease as he waves goodbye and steps into...absolute luxury. The mansion is, of course, an aesthetic _dream_. The entire thing is decked out in candles and more twinkly lights and literally hundreds and hundreds of roses. Simon’s seen every past season and was sure the editing made the place fancier than its reality but everywhere he looks is _magic._

He’s the first to arrive so he grabs a drink and waits. 

As guys slowly file in, each one more stupidly attractive than the last, Simon realises he’s won the freaking jackpot. Not only is he competing for one gorgeous heart, but he’s also surrounded by a dozen more. This fact is really to his detriment, considering the whole _competition thing_ , but Simon can’t help but enjoy his position...just a little.

And who can honestly blame him when someone – Jake? He’s still learning all the names – suggests an honest-to-God push up contest.

It’s dumb and chauvinistic but Simon isn’t complaining as guys left, right and centre lose their shirts and fall to the ground, arms flexed and ready to _work_. Simon shrugs off his suit jacket and rolls his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, hoping like hell he’s not the first to fold.

Clary’s watching on, amused, as Jace ( _that’s his name)_ smirks, planting his arms on the concrete. “Got it in the bag.”

Simon’s too busy steadying himself to roll his eyes but this is exactly the type of guy he knows he’ll be avoiding. The never-grew-up jock who peaked in high school and genuinely believes he’s God’s gift to women. It’s a stereotype, sure, but Simon’s well versed in the usual personalities picked for reality TV from his own bingeing and this guy fits it to a tee.

For a second, he wonders what role he’s meant to play but then he’s focused, head down, finding and following a rhythm of d _own, up, repeat._

The more he lowers himself the more he can feel the burn, but he leans into it, using it as motivation to keep going and show Clary he wants this.

He wants _her._

Beside him, he can hear people tapping out, falling to their faces and cursing. Simon’s built up surprisingly strong arms from too many video games and an enforced gym membership from his mom and when he finally looks up, he sees it’s just him and Jace left. 

Jace, who is in a rhythm of his own, hair all messy dripping sweat down each strand, mapping its way onto his face, down his chest and soaking into the (disgustingly sculptured) skin below. He’s breathing hard, arms solid with every last dip of his body and Simon _needs_ to win this. He’s got this ugly competitive side that only really comes out in Mario Kart but there’s something about this guy that sets him off, already crawling under his skin and staying put.

As if sensing the thought, Jace’s head snaps up, eyes making contact and then he fucking _winks_ and Simon is on the floor.

There’s an equal amount of cheers and groans from the sideline as Jace jumps up, arms in the air like a champion, milking the win for all its worth. It’s just plain gross how good he looks, cocky smirk in place and Simon drags his eyes away to see Clary offering him her hand.

“A noble effort,” she jokes, helping him up off the ground and Simon laughs in spite of himself.

“You know what they say – first the worst, second the best.”

And honestly he doesn’t know why he even _speaks_ sometimes because that is possibly the dumbest thing he could voice aloud but somehow Clary is laughing, head thrown back in the same easy rapport they had from their first meeting and Simon thinks that beats any title, push up or otherwise. 

As if summoning the champion himself, Jace is suddenly in front of them, still very very shirtless and smarmier than ever. His hand is out, offering some truce for what Simon’s sure is Clary’s benefit.

“Nice try, Lewis.”

Simon takes Jace’s hand in his and shrugs. “First the worst.” Then he drops it and points to himself, “second the best.” And because Clary is stifling a laugh he keeps going. “Third the one with the hairy chest.” They both follow Simon’s eyes which are now on Raj, lounging by the pool, shirt off and chest far from bare.

Clary laughs loudly now, sudden and off kilter and Jace looks mildly exasperated. Simon takes it as a victory. 

There’s a line forming nearby and Clary smiles apologetically. “I better go say hi.”

They both watch as she walks away and is immediately flocked by half a dozen men. Simon’s ready to make an excuse to leave too when Jace speaks.

“You two seem friendly.”

The words themselves are hardly threatening but his tone adds a bitter edge.

“Yeah - we’re friends,” Simon says cooly, which isn’t technically true but it almost feels that way and he figures they’ll get there eventually.

Jace raises an eyebrow, “Friends?”

Simon nods.

“So you’re in the friendzone?”

“Uh, no!” Simon splutters, “I’m not - _there’s no such thing as the friendzone –_ “

“Dude chill,” Jace says easily, smirk making its way back onto his stupidly nice face. “Just remember - we’re not here to make friends.”

And just like that he’s gone, off to find a drink and unsettle someone else.

Simon blinks after him, totally confused as to how he just lost the upper hand. Not that that stuff really matters but it’s been _one day_ and he’s already feeling way in over his head. These guys are deliberate, in it to win it and Simon isn’t sure he has what it takes to survive. His instinct has always been to build people up where he can but this environment seems reliant on tearing each other down. He thought he’d be better at this, thick skin and all but he wants nothing more than to change into his Spiderman flannels and hide under the covers for the rest of the night. 

Only there’s the all important rose ceremony to get through first where Simon knows someone is going home. He hopes he’s made a good enough connection to stay but there’s no certainties in this competition and the cameras surrounding them are making his self doubt run wild.

On TV, the ceremony itself is all tense music and dramatic closeups as The Bachelorette picks who she wants to stay for another week. In reality, it’s a lot of standing around and waiting. They’re lined up in a calculated order and because of their earlier rivalry, Simon finds himself next to Jace. His shirt’s back on _thank God_ but he’s standing tall and proud as ever and it’s infuriating to say the least.

Simon’s met too many guys like this – hell, he’s dated some too – and even though he’s just met Clary, he wants the best for her (wants the best for everyone, really) and he knows Jace isn’t it.

A hush falls around them as Clary finally steps forward, picks up one of the roses and smiles.

"Simon," she says slowly, eyes on him alone. "Will you accept this rose?"

Two things happen at once. Simon freezes, completely thrown at the thought of being frontrunner and Jace leans in close, lips right next to his ear and whispers, “First the worst.”

It’s completely ridiculous and Simon knows Jace is trying to be a smartass but he’s stuck choking back a laugh as he steps out of line to stand in front of Clary.

"Of course," Simon says, quickly recovering as Clary pins the rose to his lapel like a badge of honour. 

He moves to the side and purposefully ignores the smug look Jace directs his way as he gets the next rose, mouthing  _second the best_ from across the room. 

Clary keeps choosing, name after name until there's two guys left without roses. It's sad, seeing their faces fall as they say their goodbyes and leave the mansion already. It makes Simon realise that time here is precious and should not be wasted in pointless back and forth with some self-important stranger.  

The cameras stop rolling, everyone disperses and Simon takes a detour to grab a midnight snack before he walks back to his room and almost chokes. 

Because the light is on and someone is lying on his bed, halfway to sleep. They’re in nothing but grey pyjama bottoms and mismatched socks and all Simon can do is stare, not knowing whether to laugh or cry because that someone is _Jace._

And the first thing he thinks of is that stupid fucking vine because _oh my god they were roommates._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Simon and Jace sign up for the latest season of The Bachelorette they expect to be competing for Clary's heart, not each other's...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> umm the response to this has been so wonderful thank you so much to everyone who's taken the time to leave a comment. your words mean the world!! 
> 
> xo

WEEK 2

 

Jace still can’t believe he’s here - on a dating show of all places, televised nationwide.

He totally wants to punch himself in the face – or rather _Izzy_ who signed him up for this monstrosity. He blames their night out, and Magnus’ overly generous back pocket but he knows even six shots of tequila can’t invent feelings.

After yet another round, Magnus had pulled Alec away and onto the dancefloor, leaving Jace and Izzy to hatch their worst drunken plan to date.

“I want that,” Jace admitted, eyes stuck on the shamelessly loved up smiles moving to the beat. Alec had changed so much in the past year, opened up in this way they never really expected. He was still serious and controlled but he was lighter too, like meeting Magnus had restored him to the carefree child they both remembered.

Izzy watched Alec clumsily dip Magnus, laughing loudly as they both stumbled and then fell back into each other. “Me too.”

“When did we get so lonely?” Jace asked, swaying in his seat a little as he turned back to the bar, trying not to sound bitter. Because he was happy for his brother, like stupidly happy, only now he could see exactly what he was missing.

“I’m not lonely _,”_ Izzy said honestly, head tilted to the side to reconsider, “I mean, not _really_. It’d be nice to have someone but...I don’t need it.”

And she doesn’t, Jace knows, because she’s never home anyway - always working, saving the world or interns’ asses. She’s the kind of person he can picture alone, but fulfilled and he hasn’t been this envious since Meliorn asked her out senior year.

“Oh,” Jace huffed out a laugh, tipping his empty glass upside down and spinning it in front of him, “Just me then.”

Because he's not so lucky. He needs someone and he won't feel right side up until they come into his life. 

“You're gonna shoot this down so fast," Izzy said, grabbing the glass and stilling it before reaching for her brother's hand, "But I think I have an idea...”

Part of Jace wishes he was drunk now as he wakes up at some ungodly hour to...the _Mission Impossible_ theme song?

There’s fumbling and a string of _shit shit shit! No not snooze - son of a –_ then the sound stops and Simon sighs. “Sorry. Forgot to turn my alarm off now I can sleep in.”

Jace is watching him from one bed over, elbows propped up and decidedly amused, “And you wake up and what? Immediately commando roll out the door?”

Simon shrugs, “It makes me feel like I _could_.”

And on most days the morning motivation helps, but he doesn’t need to explain himself to a near stranger. Not when he can already feel the judgement in waves.

“Wow, you are just the coolest,” Jace says sarcastically, eyebrow lifted in challenge, “I bet those spy skills come in handy.”

“Yeah so I can commando roll the hell away from you,” Simon throws back, not missing a beat and Jace finds himself hiding a smile.

They stay like that, lying in bed - together but not quite – and it’s almost comfortable.

Almost.

“So we’re roommates,” Jace says flatly.

He woke up last night and saw the familiar head of hair peeking out from under a mountain of covers – because apparently Simon runs cold, even in the heat of summer.

The situation was less than ideal.

“That we are,” Simon confirms, looking around the space and seeing clashes already. Jace’s clothes from the night before are neatly folded on top of a zipped up suitcase next to his bed. Simon’s suit jacket is slung over a chair and his pants and shirt are in a heap on the floor, resembling the explosion of clothes halfway out of his bag.

“Have you ever lived with someone before?” Jace asks bluntly, eyeing the mess.

Simon gives him A Look. “Yes, thank you very much. An old friend of mine found this place in Brooklyn a few years back – all brick and old moldings. The rent controlled _dream._ Me and my college roommate moved in soon after and the three of us have been there ever since.”

“Lucky,” Jace says seriously, crossing his arms and taking satisfaction in the way Simon’s eyes follow the action. He flexes on instinct - because he’s nothing if not generous. “Manhattan rent’s a bitch.”

Simon drags his eyes up and nods emphatically, “Dude, you’re telling me. I have no idea how you afford it - are you secretly rich? Oh my god you’re totally rich! Is that how you’re gonna win Clary over - with your sexy, sexy money?”

“Do you have an off button?” Jace asks tiredly, ignoring the way Simon’s face falls a little and wondering why he even cares. “No, I am not rich. I live with my brother and sister - both workaholics who get paid like it - and we split everything.”

He’s up and out of bed before Simon can ask another question, leaning against their bathroom door like a freaking pinup boy.

“And it’s not my sexy, sexy _money_ that’s gonna win Clary over...”

He’s smirking again, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his pyjama pants and edging them dangerously lower before stepping out of sight. There’s the sound of clothes dropping to the floor, water running and then Jace is calling from the other side of the door.

“Shotgun first shower!”

Simon rolls his eyes and rolls over, cursing himself for being a little bit turned on.

 

\---

 

Apparently envelopes are a Big Deal around here because Bat finds one outside and everybody starts losing their shit. 

“What, exactly, is going on?” Jace asks, standing back and watching guys run from every corner of the mansion to huddle around what seems to be...a white piece of paper.

“It’s a date card,” Simon explains easily - because surely they all know this. “The names on it get to spend more time with Clary?”

“...Right.”

Jace still looks blank and Simon takes a step back, clutching fake pearls. “Wait - have you never watche _d The Bachelorette?_!”

“That’d be a hard no,” Jace says honestly and Simon’s eyes widen.

“Not even _The Bachelor_?” he asks in a stage-whisper and Jace shrugs.

“I mean what’s there to watch? I get the basic concept. You get a rose, you stay. You don’t get a rose, you go. There’s obviously dates, I don’t know. Seems simple.”

“Oh, dude,” Simon says patronisingly, patting him on the back. “Good luck.”

Jace side eyes him as the rest of the group joins, talking over each other like excited children until Bat shushes them, holding the all-important envelope in the air.

“Are we ready to see who’s going on this date?!” he practically shouts and everybody makes a whole heap of unnecessary noise. People are yelling, someone’s literally stamping their feet and Simon is cheering next to him, grinning from ear to ear like he’s in his element. 

“Please tell me they don’t do this _e_ _very time_?” Jace whispers in horror and Simon swats at his arm as a string of names are read aloud.

“Plottwist: we all going!” Bat yells and Jace winces at the resulting sound. It’s a terrifying thought but he wonders if he’s too old for this – or maybe just too tired considering his early morning wake up call. Simon, on the other hand, seems anything but sleepy, energy running high as practically  _skips_ off to get ready. It’s like chasing an overexcited puppy, Jace thinks, following behind.

The date itself is a competition – _competiception,_ as Simon insists on calling it much to Jace’s annoyance. There’s two teams, chosen by random selection and the prize is more time with Clary.

At first, Jace thinks they’re just playing football considering the massive field they’re led onto with a scoreboard and goalposts at each end. His high school quarterback days leave him quietly confident – until he sees the suits.

In the middle of the field there’s a pile of plasticy outfits that Clary explains everyone will be wearing throughout the game. They’re effectively sumo suits, wrecking any sense of balance and finesse he’s worked hard to master.

Everybody looks ridiculous changing into their new uniforms but Simon – well, he’s something else. Jace watches him zip up the thing, already holding back laughter.

Because Simon cannot walk.

Like literally cannot put one foot in front of the other without toppling over, time and time again. He keeps getting back up, Jace’ll give him that, and he’s laughing too but his chances at running with a ball are zero.

“I think I’ve found my calling,” Simon jokes, steadying himself after another fall. His arms are way out in front of him and his legs are attempting a split. Clary takes one look at him and bursts out laughing.

“Oh this is gonna be _fun._ ”

As expected, Simon is shit-awful but Jace isn’t much better. They’re on opposite teams and they act like it, built up rivalry coming into play. Simon’s calling out terrible smack talk and shrugging off every last dig about commando-rolling to victory. 

A few of the guys are hanging back, still struggling to maneuver themselves in the heavy suits but Simon goes full pelt, not caring how many times he hits the grass. Jace is doing the same, only he manages to stay vertical for the most part, finding his feet in an awkward jog motion. There doesn’t seem to be any rules to the game as long as people score so Jace clumsily runs half the field until their team is up by one.

He’s never been as good at defence but he’s getting into a rhythm, tackling anyone who so much as touches the ball. He takes Raj down, fumbling with Bat until he has the ball again and then he’s off. Sebastian is blocking people from all angles, giving him a clear run to the posts and then an easy goal.

Someone calls time to regroup and Jace’s team agree to follow that exact game plan until they’ve got a steady lead.

It works and Jace is heading to score again, still waddling a little but at least faster now. Only Simon is waiting for him this time, trying a new tactic of spreading his limbs as wide as possible, letting the sumo suit block the way. Jace is coming closer, ball glued to his plastic side but Simon keeps standing tall and they sort of just _collide_ , Jace losing his footing as he falls right into Simon, pinning him to the floor.

They’re a mess of limbs and material that won’t stop sticking together and Simon just lies there and laughs as Jace desperately tries, and fails, to get up. He can hear heavy footsteps approaching and he strains to get the ball back but it’s just out of reach. He groans, letting his head fall flat onto Simon’s chest and it’s oddly intimate despite the fact that Duncan has to come and peel them off of each other.

By that point, Simon’s team has scored but it’s not enough. Clary blows the whistle, signaling the end of the game and declaring Jace’s team the winners. Simon gives him a begrudging hi-five and shakes hands with everyone because his mother always taught him to be a good sport.

“Don’t wait up,” Jace says, face as smug as ever. The sun is only just starting to set but Simon knows what he means. The winning team is off to some mystery location with Clary to celebrate and Simon watches them all go, burying any ounce of jealousy down deep.

 

 ---

 

“Date card!” Jace spots on the kitchen counter, picking it up and waving it in front of Simon’s face the next morning. “See, I’m learning.” 

Simon drops his spoon, cereal milk spilling over the bowl as he snatches it off Jace and pretends to tear the thing open.

“It’s definitely a single date,” Simon says knowingly, the TV show format burnt into this brain. He holds the envelope up to the light and tries to decipher the letters inside, turning it both ways and squinting whilst Jace rubs his temples.

“Just open the damn thing.”

“No, young Jedi, have you learnt _nothing_. We open envelopes as a group.”

Jace grabs it right out of his hands and rips it in half before Simon can say another word.

“ _Jace!_ ” Simon groans, unsure of how he got stuck with this actual child. “They’re gonna kill you.”

“Especially,” Jace grins, dragging the word out, “When they see my name on here - oh.”

“What?” Simon asks, watching Jace turn the card over to double check what he’s read. His face looks pained and Simon realises just how hard this guy is already falling for Clary.

“It says you.”

Simon shakes his head, “Don’t be a dick.”

“No, I’m serious.” Jace hands over the card and smiles halfheartedly, “Congrats, man. Guess she’s into the whole uncoordinated thing.”

He doesn’t mean it but Simon elbows him anyway, staring at his name in disbelief. He thought he blew it on the football field but maybe Clary isn’t interested in the three c’s – which is a huge freaking relief considering Simon’s whole _brand_ is uncool, uncalm and uncollected.

“First rose and first date,” Jace says slowly and Simon sighs.

“Don’t say it –“

“You’re the worst,” Jace finishes, swallowing his last bite of toast triumphantly and stacking his plate in the dishwasher. He grabs Simon’s bowl without really thinking and gives it a rinse before adding it too.

Simon hops up from the kitchen bench and shakes his head in disapproval. “You gotta stop stealing my lines, man.”

Jace smirks, “Just wait till I steal your girl.”

And he’s right back into douche mode, transition as slick as ever and Simon wonders when this quick back and forth became their Thing.

“Ha ha,” Simon says sarcastically, eyes lighting up when he remembers what’s in his hand. He makes a show of fanning himself with the card and flashes Jace a sickly sweet smile on his way out the door. “See you after my date.”

And damn if Simon doesn’t know how to give it back better than anyone Jace has ever sparred with. It’s entertaining to say the least and he misses it almost instantly. 

There’s a pool and a bar and a house full of guys he could get to know but Jace still finds himself bored. He takes a long shower, does laps of the yard and ends up lying on a towel in the sun, forcing out every last thought about their date.

It’s not that he’s jealous – because he’s _absolutely not –_ but more that he’s never had to compete for anyone in his entire life and yeah, it sucks.

The whole concept of the show is starting to sink in along with the terrifying fact that _he doesn’t know how to do this_. He can fight, sure, but when it comes to this slow burn or whatever, he’s clueless. It’s much easier to make eyes from across the room and take someone home, zero to one hundred in this practiced way that never lets anyone too close.

It’s always worked before and he thought he’d be killing the competition but leading with his body has gotten him nowhere and Simon, _clumsy, chatty, actual nerd Simon_ is still one step ahead.

“Poker?”

Jace blinks, sunglasses halfway down his face as he takes in Sebastian - and Duncan? – suddenly in front of him. There’s a pack of cards between them and they’re already moving chairs to make a game space. He’s probably said a total of two words to these guys all week but they’re a welcome distraction so he joins.

“We made a good team yesterday,” Sebastian says casually, dealing the cards and picking up his hand before smoothing out a ten-dollar bill and dropping it on the table. “Bet.”

“Yeah.” Jace looks at his cards and fetches the same from his pocket, adding it to the pile.

“I think Clary got it wrong though," Sebastian says seriously, maintaining an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. "We both deserved MVP roses.” And it’s very clear he’s still salty from the night before. They’d all celebrated the sumo win with cocktails and fancy finger food and Clary had pulled Jace aside to offer him a rose. He thought it meant he was next in line for a single date and yet.

“He did score all the goals,” Duncan offers, biting his lip when he sees Sebastian’s face darken. “Uh, bet.”

Duncan adds his money quickly and turns three cards face up on the table. Sebastian considers them before adding another few dollars to the pile.

“We’re similar, you and me.” He points his cards at Jace. “That push up contest the first night, and then on the field. You’re not afraid to step on people to get to the top.”

And Sebastian is smiling like he’s just given the biggest compliment of all time and Jace just stares - because he’s never really thought of himself that way. He knows he can be harsh at times, his humour not always coming through right but he doesn’t really mean anything by it and getting lumped in with Actual Trash Sebastian seems like a definite stretch.

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” he says carefully, not only meeting the bet but raising it.

Sebastian looks at the money and smirks. “Oh, I would. The way you’re playing your roommate – it’s brilliant.”

Jace frowns, the words hitting some unknown nerve. “I’m not _playing_ him.” He’s not really sure what he and Simon are doing but it’s not that.

Duncan sighs, dropping his cards on the makeshift table. “Fold.”

Another card is added, they both meet the bet, and then the last card is turned over and Sebastian takes his time sorting through his wad of cash before pulling out a crisp fifty.

Jace shakes his head. “You’re bluffing.”

Sebastian shrugs. “I guess we’ll see.”

Jace looks at his cards again, eyes shifting between his own hand and Sebastian’s as if he’ll develop x-ray vision as long as he stares hard enough. It's just a game, sure, but he needs to win this, even more than that first night. Beating Simon felt good but this will feel _right._

“I’m in,” he says, voice firm as he sets the same money on the table.

Sebastian laughs, turning his cards over to reveal the missing links to a royal flush. Jace grits his teeth and drops his own, less impressive hand. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Sebastian starts, collecting his winnings and gesturing between them, “We could make it to Top 3.”

Jace honestly, actually, can’t think of anything worse but he’s realising he has to play the game with this guy so he smiles politely.

“Want to hear my five-step strategy? Duncan made a PowerPoint presentation.”

Jace looks straight past him. “Maybe later.”

Because he can see that Simon is back, rose in hand, walking over with an enthusiastic wave. He’s smiling, a little goofy and off centre with even more of a spring in his step than usual and any chance at distraction goes out the window.

“How was it?” Jace asks before Simon can even take a seat. He already knows the answer but he needs to hear it, almost craving a masochistic play-by-play.

“Guys, it was so cool!” Simon says honestly, doing his best to meet all of the eyes awaiting details. He’d be intimidated if he weren’t on such a post-date high. “There were canvases set up – because she likes art, you’re welcome - and paint balls that we had to hit with darts that like exploded all over the place Princess Diaries style.”

Simon’s practically bouncing as he talks and it’s so goddamn annoying. Jace wants to grab him by the shoulders and hold him still.

“Dude that movie is _iconic,”_ Bat says seriously and Simon’s suddenly in bobblehead mode.

“Oh my god, cinematic masterpiece, right?”

“Did you kiss?” Jace asks with this weird intensity that he blames on the afternoon mimosas. If this show does one thing it’s pump them with alcohol to increase the drama. He’s sure there’s half a dozen cameras on him right now, painting him as the villain but all he really cares about is hearing yes or no.

Simon goes red, shuffling his feet a little as he considers his answer. “Uh, a gentleman never tells.”

There’s a few catcalls and someone claps Simon on the back in celebration. He’s ducking his head, suddenly shy and smiley and Jace’s not sure why that bugs him so much because he can barely stand the guy.

 _Because of Clary,_ his brain supplies, and it’s easier that way so he believes it.

 

\---

 

They’re both safe.

Simon came back from his date with a rose and Jace scored one on the football field so the cocktail party is a write-off. There’s no last minute dash to convince Clary to keep them another week so they’re sipping drinks by the pool, poking fun at the desperation surrounding them.

“Raj is singing – I repeat, Raj is singing.”

In the distance they can hear the faint, tone-deaf sounds of _My Sharona._ It would maybe be passable were it not for the artistic choice to change the words to _My_   _Clarissa._

“God, that’s horrendous,” Jace says, sounding personally offended. “She looks so unimpressed.”

Simon cringes. “Usually I respect all music but he's making it, like,  _super hard_. Also did he listen to those lyrics? I don't think Clary wants to know she makes _his motor run_." 

Jace hangs his head for a fallen soldier. “He’s going home for sure.”

The guitar chords fade out and Simon’s about to go ask Raj if he can play when Sebastian appears, Duncan in tow.

“Hey Jace,” he says, not even glancing at Simon, “Let’s go grab a drink.”

Jace raises his full glass in the air and forces a smile. “I’m good.”

The boys exchange a look.

“C’mon, we just want to have a chat,” Duncan tries, taking a step closer. “Can’t you break the bromance up for one night?”

And Sebastian laughs, loud and arrogant as he looks between the two of them, eyebrows raised.

“Bromance?” Jace echoes, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “Yeah, no.”

Sebastian shrugs, baiting. “Seems like one to me. You two are joined at the hip. Like nobody can even get close to you.”

And Simon supposes he’s kind of right.

They’ve been too busy bickering to really talk to anyone else – at least not properly. Simon still doesn’t know half their names.

Jace is making no signs of moving so Sebastian gestures vaguely towards Simon and smirks. “Look just leave this Lewis kid and come play with the big boys...we’ve got a plan.”

And all eyes are on Jace as he takes an irritated breath, readying himself to tell these guys where to go when a camera is shoved in his face.

The whole premise of the show is to be filmed but so far it’s been more subtle - hidden cameramen or distant angles - and Jace falters at the reality of being recorded. He stares down the barrel of the lens, thinking of everyone who could be watching. There's maybe families finishing dinner or friends laughing or couples judging and he feels this incredible pressure to swallow the  _fuck off_ on the tip of his tongue and save it for a more private moment.

Nobody says anything, there's an awkward amount of silence and then -

“I’m gonna get another drink,” Simon says finally, deflating like a day-old balloon as he gets up and leaves his untouched margarita by the pool.

Of course, Jace thinks to go after him. He knows that he should and he's almost out of his seat but then it strikes him that he has no idea what to _say._ Because they’re not really friends, at least they’re not supposed to be and hasn’t he wanted to shake this guy all along?

Sebastian takes Simon leaving as his cue to sit down and start rattling off ideas about getting them to finals week. Jace nods along but he’s barely listening.

Because this gameplan is making him realise he hasn't thought about Clary all night. At least, not really. Instead he's been making jokes, doing everything in his power to make Simon laugh and bite back because it’s _fun_ and keeps him on his toes in this entirely new way.

Only it’s a distraction. _Simon_ ’s a distraction. And maybe he’s better off in this stupid alliance after all if it’ll get him closer to Clary...

Jace might have to consult the holy PowerPoint but he’s pretty sure step one of Sebastian’s strategy was not to be eliminated. His face is pure thunder, a clear contrast to an hour before, now that he’s one of the two left leaving without a rose. Clary apologises, saying that they haven’t really clicked but Jace thinks it might be the whole asshole thing that’s the real problem.

He doesn’t dare look at Simon, even if his instinct is to catch his eye and make a face, waiting for a sillier one in return. Because this is exactly the kind of thing that needs to stop. What started out as asserting dominance is taking up his time, edging him further from the finish line and dangerously closer to a freaking bromance like Sebastian suggested.

And really, that is the last thing that will lead him to love. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u guys are so wonderful thank u for all the nice comments!!! they absolutely make my day :) 
> 
> tw for this chapter: alcohol and drinking games
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!! xo

WEEK 3

 

They haven’t spoken, not since the cocktail party and Simon plans to keep it that way. He’s spent a long time coming to terms with all that he is and he doesn’t need _Jace,_ of all people, erasing that hard work.

Or Sebastian, really, because he’s the one who actually _spoke_ but for some reason that’s not the part that hurts. Instead, his brain keeps replaying that stupid tone Jace used, sounding _offended_ at the thought of someone thinking they were close.

Which is dumb because they barely know each other...but since day one they’ve been stuck together, by chance and then by choice and Simon was starting to think he was maybe making a friend here. Or someone to talk to at least. To see he’s actually alone in this just plain sucks. 

But, optimistic as ever, he’s trying to focus on the positives – like the fact that Clary wants to see him again, writing his name on the latest group date card along with half the house.

It’s another challenge of sorts, this time in the form of cupcake baking because Clary loves sweets. Everyone has an hour to make a tray of desserts but, like with anything on this damn show, there’s a twist. Each pair has to create their own flavour based on what they bring to a relationship. There’s an array of extra ingredients at each work station and Simon’s creative side can’t wait to get started...

Until it’s time to pair up and Jace, of course, is next to him, always right fucking there like glue and the producers can only be mocking him at this point.

“Truce?” Jace asks, avoiding his eyes and Simon sighs, looking around to see everyone else already in twos.

“Sure,” he says weakly and they start working in silence. They’ve been given the obvious (eggs, flour, milk, butter) but there’s also sprinkles, apple, cinnamon, coconut, berries and a whole range of additions that could take the whole hour to sort through.

Simon picks up the base recipe, reads it and lines up what they need for the batter. Jace hovers awkwardly, not sure how to hinder or help.

“So we start by creaming the butter and sugar,” Simon explains, reaching for a bowl and scales to measure out the ingredients. “We’re going for as many bonus points as possible so let’s add a bit more sugar and put it on our menu as being extra sweet.” He looks Jace up and down and reconsiders. “That’s true on my part, at least.”

Jace rolls his eyes. “I can be sweet when I want to. But we need to balance it out with...lemon because of like zest or whatever.”

“Zest?” Simon repeats, looking up from the recipe with a sound amount of judgement. “You bring _zest_ to a relationship? What does that even _mean?”_

Jace shrugs. “Like oomph. Flavour.”

“Now you’re just saying shit.”                  

“No!” Jace says through a laugh, “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t,” Simon says seriously, trying hard not to smile because he doesn’t want to be having fun, not with Jace at least. “But fine. It’s a collaboration so add your disgusting citrus.”

Jace grins triumphantly, cutting a lemon in half and squeezing juice into the mixture. He watches Simon combine it all and collects two eggs for the next step. They’re finding this weird rhythm, Jace reading the recipe and passing the ingredients to Simon who continues stirring everything in like it’s nothing. Like he actually owns a whisk and uses it on the regular.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Jace asks, measuring out the flour carefully whilst Simon adds the milk.

“Made cupcakes?”

Jace nods.

“Yeah, Becs and I used to cook a lot. My mom wasn’t well for a while there, right after we lost dad and it was one of the easiest ways to help. Plus, if I was busy creating something I wasn’t really thinking which was...nice, sometimes.”

For the longest time, Simon remembers the kitchen being his escape and he’s glad to be back cooking whenever he gets the chance.

“I’m sorry,” Jace says softly and Simon offers him a short smile.

“Anyway, what else do we bring to a relationship?” He takes a moment to go through everything on their bench, veto-ing some options before picking up the sprinkles. “This could be like fun, or laughter, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jace points to himself proudly, “I bring that too." 

Simon grins, tipping the container upside down and letting the rainbow specks fall into the mix. “Finally, something we agree on.”

There’s a massive clock at the front of the room, showing that they’re almost halfway through the challenge. Simon hurries to find the sifter to finish off their batter whilst Jace keeps wading through the offered ingredients.

“Food colouring!” he yells suddenly, grabbing the small bottle and holding it in the air like it's his greatest lightbulb moment. “We dye the cupcakes red – like fire. Like sex appeal or whatever.”

“That’ll look like blood,” Simon deadpans, pretending to block the way to the bowl. “And have you seen me? I don’t exactly scream sex.”

“Just wait till you have the right kind,” Jace grins, side-stepping Simon and adding a few drops before he can protest. “Then you’ll be sure to scream.”

Simon groans. “ _Jace._ I haven’t sifted the flour yet it’s gonna go all clumpy. Also I’ve had good sex before like I’m good at it too I didn’t mean that -”

“Sure, sure, Lewis.” Jace slides the bowl back. “Just sift.”

And as much as he wants to retaliate in their handcrafted way, Simon holds his tongue, choosing actions instead of words. He takes hold of the bowl and pours the flour in _just so,_ letting it fall in one big  _thump,_ covering Jace in a layer of rebounding white mist. It’s in his eyelashes and all over his cheeks but the best bit of all is his mouth, wide open in shock.

“Whoops,” Simon says innocently and it’s not believable for even a second.

Jace blinks, stare turning icy as he takes a threatening step forward, leans down and blows flour right into Simon’s face. It’s the element of surprise that gets him and Simon’s grabbing for the spoon on instinct, mixing their cupcake batter aggressively with bits flying everywhere. Jace ducks but it’s not fast enough and he ends up plastered in their horrible mix. He runs his hands through his hair, collecting batter to reuse as he edges closer.

And Simon can’t believe they’re having an actual food fight whilst everyone around them bakes.

It’s sure to make great TV.

“My turn!” Jace grabs for Simon’s waist, pulling him into this weird attempt at a hug to smear cake mix all over him and something inside Simon snaps.

“Stop. Can you just – Jace, stop.”

And he does, letting go of Simon and holding his hands up in truce.

Simon sighs. “Why do you do this?” he asks, voice a little unsteady. “You’re an ass – like seriously, you treat me like shit sometimes and then you wanna be all buddy buddy? I don’t get it.”

Jace rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.” He’s frozen, eyes serious with cake batter in his hair and Simon wishes it didn’t look so cute. “I’m so...I’m just sorry.”

And he doesn’t know what else to say, not wanting to deal with why he’s really acting this way. Because they get along too well and he’s stuck recategorising Simon as competition because if he’s not fighting for Clary then what’s he fighting for?

“Are you like embarrassed to know me or whatever?” Simon asks quietly, turning back to the bowl and pretending his entire concentration is needed to finish mixing the batter. “You backed away from the idea of us being friends so fast and then you didn’t even say anything when that jerk kept going. Like I get it, you’re not here to make friends, you said that from the beginning but I didn’t force you to hang out with me and you kind of made me feel like shit...”

Jace bites his lip, wishing he could take back the past twenty-four hours. He’s tried to push the interaction from his mind but it’s stayed there, on a loop, guilting him repeatedly. “I should’ve said something..." he admits. "Anything. Sebastian was being a dick.”

“He was,” Simon agrees, “But I don’t care what he thinks.”

And then he mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like a compliment.

“What was that?” Jace asks, the startings of a smile working their way onto his face, a kind of warmth spreading through him too.

Simon says something again, softly and Jace is full on grinning now.

“Sorry, I can’t quite hear you...”

Simon stares at the floor. “I care what you think. God. I have no idea why but I do...Go ahead. Laugh it up.”

Jace watches him carefully, taking a step closer and for once in his life he doesn’t feel like making fun. “I definitely will later because this is the most dramatic way of tricking me into saying we’re goddamn friends but we are, you idiot. Now let’s win this thing.”

He reaches for a stack of cupcake cases and metal trays, placing everything on the bench between them and they get to work, conversation comfortable again as they take it in turns spooning out the batter. Jace is really just  _the worst_ at it, drizzling mixture all over the sides but Simon patiently helps him, grabbing an extra spoon and showing him the easiest way to avoid making a mess. 

When the cakes are finally in the oven, they sit down to write out the additional ingredients. There’s a template to fill in explaining the flavours they bring to a relationship. Simon begrudging writes  _sex appeal_ in loopy letters and Jace pulls a face.

“There’s no way these will taste good.”

And yeah, it's an interesting mix but Simon makes sure the cakes cook to perfection, having long enough to cool before adding a simple butter icing he knows by heart. He pipes it on top in the shape of a rose, leaning into the show’s theme and Jace can’t help but be impressed. 

A loud timer dings in the background and Clary starts the taste tests, cameras following her around the room as she tries each cupcake one by one. Some are absolute disasters but she remains positive, even when all twelve of Duncan's turn out like burnt bricks. There's this infectious energy she gives off, enthusiasm in spades and Jace can't help but think it matches Simon more than he'd like. 

Clary comes over to them last, encouraging smile in place as she takes one bite of their cupcake and practically moans. 

“God, that’s good.” She picks up their makeshift menu and reads. “Wow, weird combination but you two...somehow work.”

Simon beams at the praise and Jace feels a real sense of pride too knowing they made these from scratch and dare he say it, they make a good team.

But they still don't manage to come first. 

Instead, Clary takes Raj, Bat and their choc-raspberry cupcakes off for some extra one-on-one time. The chef in Simon should care but it feels like he and Jace are back on solid ground and for some reason, that matters most.

 

 ---

 

For once, it isn’t Jace who suggests something stupid in the house. He thinks it might’ve been Duncan but he’s not sure, all he knows is they’ve all been roped into a group game of Never Have I Ever and he is _druuunk_.

Everybody’s sitting on the floor of the rec room, cross-legged in a circle. It’s Simon’s turn and he grins, question at the ready since the start of the last round.

“Never have I ever watched _The Bachelor_ or any of its affiliated spin offs.”

He turns to Jace, who’s sitting on his left, and rests his hand under his chin, waiting. Jace sighs and takes what has to be his tenth drink. Out of everyone, he’s probably done the most and he is well and truly paying for it.

“You realise I’m next, right?” Jace says like a warning, voice slowing down now he’s more than a few drinks deep. “Never have I ever damaged my back commando rolling off my bed.”

“Jaaaace,” Simon whines, glass halfway to his mouth. “That was _one_ time. And you made me do it!”

Duncan clears his throat loudly. “If y’all are done trying to get each other drunk can we move on?”

Jace laughs, sculling the rest of his drink and holding the empty glass in the air. “I think that ship has already sailed.”

Duncan rolls his eyes, all plans of them making Top anything together gone from last week.

“Never have I ever...” Raj starts, taking his time as he looks around the room. He has, without a doubt, been the worst at these so far, staying G-rated as if the cameras are still around. They’re not. “Gone on a date and hated it.”

Most of the group drinks but Bat groans, tipping his glass back and shaking his head. “Too soon, man. Too soon.”

Simon frowns. “Was it really that bad?”

“Oh, it was horrible,” Bat says seriously, looking lowkey traumatised. “Clary took me horse riding and I have, like, the _biggest_ fear of horses. I needed help getting up and off the thing and I almost cried, guys, I almost _cried_.”

Raj pats him on the back sympathetically. “Tears are fine, dude.”

“Not over a _horse_ ,” he wails and Jace has to cover his mouth to stop himself from laughing. Simon sees and elbows him in the ribs, hard.

“The guy’s in pain, you asshole,” he whispers, leaning in so nobody else can hear. Jace smells nice up close and his head feels heavy so he lets it fall onto the shoulder there, nuzzling in just a little. “Hey, you’re comfy.”

Jace sighs, patting him on the head awkwardly before nudging him off.

“You are such a lightweight,” he teases and Simon sticks out his tongue even though he's undeniably dizzy already. 

“ - I ever gotten a tattoo.”

They tune back in, half forgetting the game going on around them and Jace fills his glass up only to drink some more.

“Since when do _you_ have a tattoo?” Simon asks, more than a little bit curious and Jace lifts up his shirt in answer, showing off a tiny black mark near his hip. It’s some kind of symbol with lines and curves and Jace rubs his thumb over it fondly.

“My whole family has them,” he explains, enjoying how fixated Simon is on the small bit of skin showing. It’s almost like he’s never seen a tattoo before, which can’t be true but he’s staring and it’s making Jace _feel._

“Never have I ever gone skinny dipping.”

Jace drinks, thankful for the distraction and so does half the group but Simon’s glass stays put.

“Never?!” Jace asks him, knocking their knees together and Simon feels sudden heat spread through him at the thought of _that_ with _him_.

“Uh, no,” Simon says, cheeks burning. Because he hasn’t let his mind wander, no matter how many times Jace has slept shirtless or walked around the pool in nothing but tiny swim shorts, he's always kept his cool. Except his brain isn’t so good at switching that stuff off when it’s drowning in alcohol.

“There’s a pool here...” someone suggests. Jace grins, eyebrows lifted in challenge and Simon could actually honestly die. 

Thankfully the game goes on, clothes in tact but Simon can feel Jace's eyes on him for the next few rounds and he shifts in his spot until his body calms down. 

“Never have I ever been in love.”

They all stare at Raj, because of course it’s him who went there and half the group awkwardly drinks. It’s clear there’s some broken hearts in the room and the mood almost turns somber until Simon notices that Jace hasn’t moved.

“Ha!” Simon says triumphantly, gulping down his drink like it’s water. “Something I’ve done that you haven’t.”  
  
Jace looks at him, amused. “Cool brag. Also this isn’t a competition? It’s a game.”

“Oh but they’re the same thing, aren’t they Jace?”

And he’s not really sure what that means but Simon is nodding like he’s all three of the wise men and Jace hasn’t got the energy to argue. It’s stupid o’clock in the morning and he’s sure they’ve asked just about everything in the history of this game when Duncan reaches the bottom of the barrel.

“Never have I ever kissed a guy.”

Simon’s eyes are everywhere as he takes a drink, and then Jace is too, draining the last of his glass and reaching for the communal bottle to pour some more. It’s not that he particularly cares about being out but he’s always a bit weary around a bunch of testosterone, especially if there’s anyone looking for ammunition.

Simon, on the other hand, almost spits out his drink.

Someone wolf whistles and there’s maybe a whisper or two but for the most part everyone seems cool. The group keeps rattling off dumb stuff people have or haven’t done and the game moves on but there’s a shift and Simon doesn’t speak again until they’re back in bed, lights off.

“So....guys, huh?”

Jace groans, “For once in your life can you just, like, shut up?”

Simon shakes his head. “Nuh-uh, you’re not getting off that easy! We need to dish. Are we talking a one-off? Was it a friend-kiss or like actual genuine attraction? Because if it was a joke like way to go, beating down toxic masculinity but if you’re not straight then hello queer solidarity -

“Simon,” Jace says tiredly, pillow over his face to stop the room from spinning. “It’s four am, my brain is mostly liquor and it’s making your fucking Oscar acceptance speech hard to process. I like guys, now let’s sleep.”

And that is...wow. 

Something he can't quite process but Simon, high on this new information, needs  _more._ He’s sitting up in bed now, sleepover mode enacted even as Jace rolls over, ready for sleep.

“Who would you go for out of the guys in the house?”

“Jesus Christ, Lewis – can you not make this weird?”

Simon grins, “It’s me, isn’t it?” He can’t see it but Simon knows Jace is rolling his eyes in the dark. “It’s totally me.”

Jace huffs out a laugh, “You should be so lucky.”

There’s a beat. Jace thinks he’s dropped it and then -

“Maybe we should make Clary jealous,” Simon suggests, half joking half indulging in any plan that would make Jace interested. Because he’s hot, okay, and alcohol aside he’d go there.

Probably.

Definitely.

God, he doesn’t want to open that door.

“Go the fuck to sleep, Simon," Jace grumbles. 

And he should because he can’t start looking for the good in Jace, not now when all he’s seen so far is the opposite. Except there’s this other side slowly revealing itself, unraveling piece by piece and because life is cruel, he likes it.

He likes it a lot.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> w o w you guys keep blowing me away with the loveliest comments ajkh thank u so much!! i am so so glad you're enjoying this as much as i am!! we are now halfway through this fic and i hope to smash out the next four chapters over the coming weeks!! 
> 
> xo

WEEK 4

 

Jace is used to his own space so living with Simon is...jarring. 

It’s not really the mess or the complete and utter absence of silence or even the loud (but admittedly nice) shower singing through their paper-thin bathroom wall.

No, it’s more these _bursts of presence_ like the morning Simon barges in with the biggest smile on his face and a handful of wires.

“Look what I found!”

Jace blinks, never quite ready for the hurricane that is his roommate Simon.

“It’s an old PS2,” he says but it comes out like _duh_ and Jace watches him deposit the entire thing onto the end of his bed.

And then he’s at the back of the TV, dismantling cords and upending pieces of equipment like that’s a completely normal thing to do - just come right in and help yourself to the electronics.

Except he looks like he knows what he’s doing, connecting old wires with new ones, pulling bits and pieces apart and matching colour to colour with ease. He’s managed to find some adapter cable to combat the aged technology and he’s maybe in his nerdiest element yet.

“The producers have a whole room of _stuff_ just lying around.” He keeps talking like he’s watching paint dry, or some equally mundane activity that doesn’t require brain taxing wire crossing. “And you can just ask for, like, anything, really. Except an up to date gaming system apparently - not that you can really beat the classics.” He points to a few stray cases lying on his bed. “We have Grand Theft Auto, Sims, Crash Bandicoot - ”

“Sorry – did you just call Crash Bandicoot a _classic_?” Jace asks wryly. Because he sure as shit can’t take in anything else that’s going on. “Mario and Luigi are rolling over in their colour-coordinated graves.”

“Ha. Funny.” Simon reaches for the remote and presses a few buttons, sighing when the screen stays blank. “Since when are you such a video game snob?”

“Not a snob.” Jace crosses his arms defensively. “I just grew up respecting the Super Mario Brothers.”

And Simon laughs at that, imagining a little Jace glued to the game just like he was, two suburbs over. It’s shocking, really, but every week they survive in this place shines a spotlight on more that they have in common. If Jace suddenly produces a suitcase full of comics he’s out.

“You’re lucky I couldn’t find MarioKart or I’d be beating your ass as we speak.”

Jace nods sarcastically. “Is that before or after you destroy our one working TV?”

Because the screen is still black but Simon’s moving a few things round and honestly it’s easier to tease than to help.

He’s kneeling in a tight white tee, denim overshirt rolled up at the elbows and watching him work is kinda hot - not that Jace would ever admit it. Nope, that thought deserves to be locked up and tortured into indefinite silence.

The screen suddenly flashes from black to pixelated colour and Simon stands back, admiring his work. The same job would’ve taken Jace, actual grandpa with technology, forever and his approval must show because Simon grins.

“I know. You love me.”

Jace tilts his head to the side obnoxiously. “I mean that’s just not true, now is it?”

Simon pulls a face and throws him a controller. Hard.

“Are we playing or what?” he asks, racing back to the bed and crossing his legs out of habit.

The opening theme song starts and he sings along loudly, even though there’s literally no words? Like he’s just sitting there making incoherent sounds, practically vibrating, so beyond excited at the prospect of something as small as a childhood game. And the whole sight would have been so fucking annoying just a week ago. But now, none of it seems so bad. In fact Jace finds it almost...sweet.

And yeah, that’s going straight in the thought dungeon, ready for torture.

 

\---

 

It turns out Jace is an actual badass when it comes to video games. He’s intuitive and hopelessly competitive no matter what’s on the screen. He and Simon are neck and neck until their eyes burn and a quick check of the clock shows they’ve played into the early hours of the morning. They’re equally stubborn though and it’s only after a promise of settling their score tomorrow that they finally agree to sleep.

Except Simon wakes up feeling like he’s been hit by the world’s largest truck.

His whole body is heavy jelly, his head aches and he’s got actual sniffles. Normally, he’s first out of bed, buying into the whole _seize the day_ thing but Jace is poking him with a Play Station controller for at least sixty seconds before he groans and finally surfaces.

“I’m sick,” he says as explanation, voice raw and Jace raises an eyebrow.

“Nice forfeit.”

Simon goes to laugh and it turns into a cough, one of those full-body heaves. He smiles ironically. “No, Jace. I’m sick.”

“Oh. Shit.” Jace has this weird urge to check his vitals, as if he has even the slightest medical skill. He thinks back to when he or Alec were ill, trying to remember the ways Izzy used to fuss over them. She’d always check their temperature then wrap them up in blankets...then _cook._ “Do you want soup or something?”

“Soup?” Simon repeats, because Jace offering comfort food seems...odd. “Where are you planning on finding soup?”

Jace shrugs. “The kitchen. I don’t know.”

And it might be Simon’s imagination but Jace seems to shrink, close in on himself a little like he’s been caught in the horrible act of _caring_ and Simon wants to take back every last word.

“Sorry. That’s really sweet of you, man. I just – ugh, I feel like _shit_.”

He sinks back into his mountain of pillows and Jace hovers.

“Do you want me to like, get out of your space?”

Simon thinks about it and shakes his head. And God, even that hurts. “No,” he says honestly. “Can we just play?” And he reaches for the controller Jace has in his hand, fumbling as their knuckles knock together and skin collides. It’s weird but after the other night, Simon’s been extra careful. No lingering looks. No hugs. Not that they really did that stuff before but he’s on high alert. The last thing he wants is for Jace to think he has some stupid _crush_.

But their skin meets and Jace just hands over the controller like normal, reaching for his own, game face on and ready to _play._ They fall back into routine, the room thick with mockery but all attempts at distraction are worthless because Simon, sickness and all, is kicking ass.

“You’ve got the bed advantage,” Jace whines after another dip in score and Simon looks at him like he’s talking shit.

“Sorry - _what_?”

Jace points accusingly. “Your bed is closer to the TV! Your visuals are _much_ better.”

Simon rolls his eyes. “Excuses, excuses.”

“I’m just stating the facts,” Jace says firmly and Simon shrugs.

“Get over here then.”

And he pats the space next to him without really thinking, mainly to shut Jace up because this is a level of petty he cannot let slide. But then Jace is climbing over, settling in beside him and suddenly they’re in bed together. Simon’s beneath the covers and Jace is sitting on top but _still._

“Happy now?” Simon asks, effectively squished against Jace, shoulders pressing together to fit. It’s not uncomfortable as such but they’re awfully close in uncharted territory and Jace grins.

“Very.”

They play in silence for a bit, Simon blaming his health for the heat in his cheeks and not the body unconsciously edging closer. He can feel skin that isn’t his, charge between them throwing him off and he hopes to all that is Holy this doesn’t become a distraction technique.

“So how come you’re here?” Jace asks after a while, voice low now that they're barely an inch apart.

“I assume you mean here, here like the competition - not this bed or like, this _earth_.”

Jace pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, Lewis, please tell me why we were put on this planet.”

Simon grins, “I know you’re joking but I have some wicked theories.”

“Later,” Jace promises, because that sounds like a conversation riddled with material. “First question first.”

Simon pauses, sort of deflating as he considers the series of unfortunate events that brought him here. He could start with the valentines or the doorman or any of the fifty seven crushes he’s harboured since the beginning of time...but placed back to back it all seems pathetic and runny nose aside, he’d like to keep some of his dignity in tact.

“Well - you may have noticed but I have the slight tendency to go overboard.”

“Slight,” Jace says like it’s a joke and Simon side eyes him in warning. “Sorry. Go on.”

“I just,” Simon fumbles, “I don’t know, feel like I want that happily ever after so bad I’ve built it up in my head.”

Jace listens, still pressing buttons but with less force now because, sue him, he’s _interested._

Simon winces. “And there was this girl years ago - the whole high school sweethearts thing. I thought we were it. But I don’t know - I’m always too much for people, I guess. I try to give them the world and they just...run.”

He sounds defeated in this way Jace couldn’t have imagined. He can actually see all of Simon’s animation drain from the inside out and he never thought he’d be sad to see it go. 

“You drank to having been in love,” Jace says carefully, ignoring the reminder of what else that night revealed. “Was that about her?”

Simon sighs heavily. “Yeah. I mean, I think so. It was the best friendship I’d ever had but, like, on fire? I can’t even explain it I just wanted to be together all the time even if we were doing nothing at all.”

Like this, he thinks but doesn’t dare say.

“So you were hoping you’d find something similar here?” Jace asks, words toppling out to know _more_ and Simon shrugs.

“I guess the hopeless romantic in me thought it was worth a try. I mean - it’s weird, right?”

“Signing up to be filmed fighting a house full of guys for love?” Jace huffs out a laugh. “Oh yeah.”

“So why did you do it?” Simon shoots back with unsteadied confidence and Jace runs a hand through his hair and thinks.

“I don’t know...my brother’s so sickeningly happy and in love and my sister’s married to her job, but in the best possible way and I’m just...here.” He drops the controller into his lap, staring at his hands and letting his score suffer. “I don’t know. I’m not like unhappy or anything I’d just like someone to share stuff with. Like I come home and more times than not there’s nobody there to tell about my day.”

And maybe it's the topic change but Jace seems so different like this, softer almost and Simon wonders how much of that macho stuff is a front - a protective layer to keep people at arm’s distance. Maybe he’s been hurt before or maybe he thinks it’s the way to a heart but it’s clear there’s so much more to Jace than first meets the eye. 

“Wow that got real sad real fast,” Jace says, laughing awkwardly. “Like I’m _fine_ but things could be...better, I guess.”

Simon nods, because he knows that feeling well. His life is overflowing with friends and family but he’s nobody’s priority and he’s always wondered what that might feel like.

“You can tell _me_ about your day,” Simon offers, bumping their shoulders together and it’s partly a joke but Jace is smiling anyway.

“Well,” he drags out the word, “So far I’ve _dominated_ at PS2.” He picks up his controller and waves it obnoxiously for emphasis.

Simon grabs it right out of his hand and throws it across the room.

“Asshole penalty,” he explains and Jace jumps up, collects the plastic thing and scoots back into bed beside him.

"I hate you," Jace whispers and the game goes on. 

 

\---

 

“Why?” Simon asks miserably, ripping open another box of tissues on day four. “And _how_ do I still have the plague?”

He’s tucked up in bed again, practically molded into the mattress at this point and the end has to be in sight. Whether the end is good health or death he’s yet to find out.

“You don’t have the _plague_ ,” Jace says through a smile because, God help him, this whole thing is endearing when it really should be gross but germs and all, he hasn’t moved away once. They’ve been working their way through _the classics_. Jace even allowed the dumb bandicoot game to cheer Simon up because watching sunshine dim right before his eyes is officially The Worst.

“I do too,” Simon says firmly, ready to argue more except he’s suddenly sneezing and God, he wants to get rid of this cold like, yesterday because there’s nothing sexier than a red nose and actual visible disease.

Not that he wants to seem sexy for _Jace_ who is the only human being he’s seen all week. But for future interactions – with Clary, obviously, the object of his affection, future girlfriend and reason to be here in the first place. 

He’s busy derailing that thought train when there’s a knock on the door. Jace jumps up to answer, opening it slowly and almost protectively guarding the inside of their room.

Bat gives him a strange look.

“Uh, hi? I just wanted to let you guys know there’s an all in-game of water polo starting in like...” Bat checks his watch, “thirty-four seconds.”

Jace grins, actually starting to like this kid. It took a few weeks and some communal bottles of liquor but the house finally bonded. He still can’t stand Duncan but the rest of the guys seem alright. 

“Simon’s still sick,” Jace explains, gesturing to the room behind him and Bat nods.

“What about you?”

Jace sneaks a look at Simon, face scrunched up in concentration as he presses button after button in dismay.

And dammit, it’s cute in this way that makes his heart sort of _clench - w_ hich is new and clear evidence that he can't help but see Simon differently now, like he’s switched lenses since that drunken night.

Because Simon likes guys, which shouldn’t really matter when they’re here to like _Clary_.

But, try as he might, he can’t think about anything else.

“Yeah.” Jace smiles, watching Simon beam as his score skyrockets. “I’m good here.”

Bat raises his eyebrows, totally catching on and Jace pushes him out the door because this _cannot_ become a _thing._

“What did he want?” Simon asks, eyes still on the game.

“Everyone's playing water polo." Jace climbs back onto the bed and tucks his legs under the covers, getting comfortable. "Bat wanted to invite us. I said you were sick."

Simon nods. "Yeah,  _I'm_ sick. You can go."

He waits for Jace to respond but there’s just silence and he finally looks up from the screen.

“Dude, you’ve literally spent _days_ stuck in this room playing video games and listening to me rattle off conspiracy theories. You’ve earned yourself a break.”

And it was honestly the best week yet but Jace shrugs like it was nothing. “Well we didn’t end up on any date cards. What else was I meant to do?”

"Play water polo?" Simon offers, not understanding how this guy who seemed annoyed by his very presence is yet to want space. 

"I don't want to," Jace mutters, feeling like a child and Simon doesn’t know how to answer that so he chucks Jace his controller and salutes.  

"It's Bandicoot Time." 

 ---

 

“Good news!” Simon calls out from the bathroom, swinging the door open with extravagant force. “My nose is no longer red!” 

They’re getting ready for the cocktail party, something that’s become commonplace but Simon walking out looking like _that_ is out of the ordinary.

“Wow. You scrub up okay,” Jace says, eyes sort of broken as he looks Simon up and down. Because he’s always been cute in this comic book kid kind of way but now, now he looks _good_. He’s in this tight, navy suit, white button up open just enough for Jace’s eyes to wander.

“Oh. Uh, thanks! It's the nose,” Simon says, a little taken aback by the random compliment and blatant attention. He rubs his hands together self consciously before pointing at Jace. “You too. Suited dream as always - I mean, not a _dream._ " Simon feels himself turning red, backtracking in full force. "That's a bit strong and obviously I don't mean, like, a nightmare - can you imagine? Ha good compliment, Simon! I think we can all agree you look like a _neutral vision..._ ”

Simon trails off, cursing his tongue and Jace tucks it all away for safekeeping.

They’re poolside, drinks in hand, listening to Raj recap his trainwreck of a date when Clary appears, stepping into the space and offering them all a smile.

“Could I steal Simon for a sec?”

Simon blinks. “Yeah – sure! I’m all yours,” he jokes, finger guns appearing on instinct and he’s sure Jace is laughing behind him.

Except he’s not. At all. His jaw is clenched, the _all yours_ ringing in his ears and he just about pulls a muscle in his neck trying to follow the pair out of eyeshot.

People keep talking around him but there’s this horrible _pull_ in his stomach, something off-balance that doesn’t really go away, just builds until Simon is back, stupid smile in place.

“What was that about?” Jace asks, voice gruff in this way he can never really control but Simon brushes past it.

“She just wanted to check if I was okay. You know, plague and all.”

“How sweet of her,” Jace says tightly, gross jealousy doubling.

“Yeah.” Simon sighs. “I blew it, though. I’m not too good at the whole ...” he makes a vague gesture with his hands. “You know - construction of the sentences.”

Jace raises his eyebrows. “Did you just forget the word _talking?_ ” he asks skeptically, never missing a chance to poke fun and Simon’s face falls.

“See!” he wails, “I’m like the opposite of smooth – rough, except not that either. Geez, I’m definitely going home tonight.”

And Jace freezes, hand near the small of Simon’s back, ready to give a sympathetic but  _friendly_ pat when he remembers that they could easily leave the mansion, the competition and each other’s lives tonight. 

It strikes him at once how temporary this all is, how they’ve been mucking around all week like none of this matters but it _does_ and when they’re standing in a line, waiting for a rose Jace doesn’t even care when Clary calls his name. He feels like he’s on autopilot until Simon’s by his side, rose in hand and no amount of thought torture can change the fact that his priorities are realigning - or maybe they were right all along. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again thank u to each and every one of u for leaving ur thoughts!!! they mean a lot <3
> 
> tw for this chapter: panic attack and feelings

 

WEEK 5

 

Cliffdiving, Simon thinks, is moronic.

He’s not even sure why he agreed to this date considering it requires flinging himself off a massive rock but he’s here, flanked by Jace because apparently Clary sees them as a package deal. They’ve been following the group down a dirt road for the best part of an hour, heading towards the ocean and only now does he feel the coastal chill.

“Why are you always so cold?” Jace grumbles but there’s nothing behind it and he almost sounds _fond,_ one arm out of his coat before Simon can say a word.

He hangs the thing round Simon like a cape and now they’re not walking, they’re _flying_ to the latest date destination, superhero noises and all.

It’s ridiculous, this whole month has been ridiculous but Jace is starting to like the new normal. Waking up to _Mission Impossible,_ stealing Simon’s toast, hanging by the pool until sundown - it’s all... _nice_ and entirely different to what he expected when he signed up for the show. He’s never really done this – gotten to know someone in a way where they can just _be,_ no strings attached and it beats any rose. 

“Yikes,” Simon says, rounding a corner at incredible speeds and cringing at the cliff before them.

“ _Yikes_...Jesus, Simon I can’t.” Jace looks at him, coat-cape in tact and sighs. “There are so many ways I could make fun of you right now my brain can’t actually focus on just one.”

And he can hear Jace being an ass, that much is expected but what he’s saying isn’t really going in because that’s a huge fucking cliff, like The Biggest and he’s expected to throw his body off the damn thing?

Nope. Nope. Absolutely not.

He won’t - in fact _he can’t_.

Everything’s locking up from the inside out, his body resisting in the way it knows best. It starts with his chest, tightening by the second then his steps go all funny and if he can’t even _walk_ how is he meant to _jump..._

It doesn’t make sense - how this can be freeing or whatever when Simon’s never felt so _stuck,_ trapped in this moment, vision tunneling in his one-way ticket to hell. He’s stopping still before he knows it, eyes desperately flickering to focus on something, _anything_ other than the rock ahead.

And if only he could get his shit together, keep his cool _just this once_ then maybe it will all be okay.

But no, _no_ he’s always got to fuss, never actually fix...

And now is so not the time to be doing this, not _here_ with cameras all around, capturing him at his weakest, something so intimate he’d never share by choice and that’s enough to start his lungs shutting off, body arching over without his consent. He's trying to suck in air that won’t ever come as thoughts both flood and flee -

But Jace.

Jace is there, crouching down without getting in his space.

“Hey. Si, take a breath.” His voice is gentle, an anchor of sorts and it blocks out some of the noise in his head. “Here, do it with me.” He exaggerates inhaling and exhaling, counting on his fingers without a trace of mockery until he hears Simon give it a go, then he’s saying the numbers aloud, giving him soothing encouragements every time he gets even the slightest bit of air in.

And Simon’s body is begging for _more more more_ , oxygen starved and tired, so fucking tired that he can’t stop from crying, tears welling up and spilling down his face with each jagged breath.

It’s too much, being back in this space, an endless thrum of fear surging head to toe until he’s numb with it, body shaking with leftover adrenaline, relentless thoughts beating him up for returning to something so dark after all the progress he’s made.

“That’s it. You’re doing so well.”

_I’m not._

“It’s okay, you’re okay.”

_I’m not._

“Look at me – I’m not going anywhere.”

_You are._

But he does as he’s told, tilting his head until he can see Jace and it could have been seconds or just as easily days but he’s still at Simon’s side, this solid presence grounding him when his world threatens to burst.

“Keep talking,” Simon manages, too busy counting to get anything else out and Jace grins.

“If you insist.”

And he launches into this story about his brother finding out he was auditioning for _The Bachelorette,_ deadpanned realness and all and it’s distraction, a tactic that doesn’t always work when Simon knows it’s coming but today it does wonders.

Jace is putting on voices, quoting each member of his family and with every exaggerated reaction Simon feels his heart slow back to normal – or at least as normal as it gets around Jace. He can breathe easier too and God, why does anyone take this in and out for granted? There’s still a slight shake in his hands but he can see beyond the tunnels and everything around him has stopped feeling static.

“I’m sorry,” Simon whispers, head down and eyes shut to block out this mess. He hasn’t had a panic attack in months, not one this bad in _years_ but he guesses that’s what happens when he lives in his comfort zone. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry about,” Jace says seriously, reaching out to smooth his hand down Simon’s back and it’s the first time he’s touched him since this all began. Every action has been deliberate, painfully considered and Simon can’t remember the last time he felt so cared for. “Besides, would you be embarrassed of a broken leg?”

Simon looks at him funny. “I didn't break my leg.”

“No, I know,” Jace says through a smile, “But it’s the same thing. If it was your body, not your mind, that stopped you from doing this today would you be embarrassed?”

And Simon wants to kiss him, right there and then because that’s all he’s ever needed to hear post-panic.

But there’s cameras and there’s Clary and his heart might be in this alone so he settles for sitting on the grass, watching their friends hurdle themselves into the ocean, trading mindless commentary with Jace as his fear flatlines.

 

\---

 

“I guess it was worth coming to my rescue,” Simon muses, sitting on the edge of his bed the next night, trying to sound like he doesn’t care.

But he does, oh he is so beyond pretending like his feelings are no homo.

“Because you owe me forever?” Jace jokes, voice carrying from the bathroom where he’s getting ready and Simon wishes it were that.

“No, because you finally got your big date.”

There’s an envelope beside him, torn open and inviting Jace to some one-on-one time with Clary. It was delivered to their room after everything went down yesterday. Apparently comforting a panicked friend is an aphrodisiac or whatever. 

Jace finishes messing with his hair and walks out.

“You’re wearing that?” Simon asks and it sounds weirdly choked.

Jace looks down at the white henley pushed up to his elbows and plain black jeans.

“Uh, yeah, why?”

_Because you look like a freaking sex God and I want to punch myself in the face because you’re not mine._

Simon blinks. “No, nothing. You just – you look good, man.”

“Do you –“ Jace rubs at the back of his neck nervously, crossing the room and standing close like that might make this easier somehow. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t go on this date?” he asks eventually.

Because lately there’s been signs, blink and you miss signs that maybe this _thing_ they’ve got going could be more. He barely knows Clary but even if tonight went well he knows he’d throw it all away if Simon asked.

The question throws him and Simon wonders what would happen if he let himself say yes – yes, there’s a five-foot-eight roommate of a reason but he’s scared, worse than yesterday in a way, so he lies.

“No,” Simon says miserably, offering a fakely enthused thumbs up. “Go get her!”

 

\---

 

Simon’s a nice guy – he’d never wish ill on anyone but tonight he’s hoping for heartbreak other than his own.

“How was it?” Simon asks exactly three hours later as Jace collapses onto his bed, arms spread.

“Good.”

“That’s all you’re giving me?” Simon side eyes him. “ _Good_. After the third degree I got when I came back from my date.”

Jace shrugs, “It was fine. I mean, she’s nice and pretty and we played mini golf which was a throwback.”

But it wasn’t fun. It wasn’t hitting brightly coloured golf balls into a clown’s mouth with Simon, whatever the fuck that means.

Simon’s eyes go wide. “Oh my God – did you do the clichéd _this is how you hold a golf club_ thing?”

Jace rolls onto his side and sighs tiredly. “The _what?_ ”

“Are you serious?” Simon actually looks disappointed. “You, my friend, have so not watched enough rom-coms. It’s the textbook move! Get up!” Jace gives him A Look and doesn’t budge. “No, seriously, get up. I’ll show you. Come stand here.”

Simon keeps pointing until Jace begrudgingly moves into place.

“Now pretend you’re holding a golf club,” Simon says seriously like this isn’t the weirdest way to end their night.

Jace makes a show of putting one arm on top of the other, gripping an invisible stick and Simon takes a step closer.

“Then act like you don’t know what you’re doing so I, golf extraordinaire, can help.”

“But I _do_ know what I’m doing. And I bet you don't know a thing about golf.”

Simon rolls his eyes. “That is so not the point just – here.”

He doesn’t really think, he just wraps his arms around Jace, lining their bodies up and guiding a smooth swing. He slides his hands up further, trying to demonstrate the unnecessary contact of the move and grins at what he finds there.

“Um, hello muscles.”

Jace laughs, short and hollow. “Yeah.”

Simon drops his hands and steps back. “Sorry was that - what’s wrong?”

“Do you think that’s why she likes me?” Jace asks suddenly.

He wouldn’t be surprised, it’s been that way with all the other girls – the guys too, really - just a warm body to pursue but he’s too old to think that’s a good thing anymore and the possibility that he has nothing else to offer stops him short.

“I mean not the _only_ reason I’m sure...it was meant to be a compliment,” Simon says helplessly, watching Jace close off, armour back in place that took Simon _weeks_ to dissemble.

“Yeah.” Jace forces a smile. “Thanks.”

“Hey.” Simon frowns. “You’re smart, like way more than you know and you’re funny, even when you’re being an ass also you’re actually _nice_ and, like, caring when you wanna be. There’s all this awesome stuff you’ve got going for you before I even _start_ on your looks.”

Jace grins. “And where is it you’d start?”

Which isn’t what he wants to say at all but those words mean more than he’d ever admit plus he’s missed seeing Simon sweat.

“Seriously?” Simon groans. “I just mean you’re like, conventionally attractive, you know, like a solid _would do_ on most people’s scale – not that I’ve put much thought into it. But the whole blonde smouldery thing – it’s not my type per se but, you know, it’s _a_ type –”

Jace smirks, crossing his arms obnoxiously. “You think I’m hot, just say it.”

“Pfft,” Simon splutters, “ _You_ think _I’m_ hot!”

Jace nods. “I do.”

And it’s not the way he’s imagined Jace saying those two words but it still makes his brain short-circuit.

“Wait, what?” Simon yelps.

“What are we doing?” Jace asks because _fuck it_ he can’t see a future with Clary and after that date he could be going home tonight.

“I don’t...I don’t know,” Simon says honestly. From the get-go their friendship was never the norm but he’s been scared to question too much in case it all disappears.

But the way Jace is watching him, like he’s _special_ and _wanted_ and _whole_ changes everything -

And he can’t take it anymore.

He’s reaching for Jace before he knows it, one hand lost in his stupid tight henley tugging him forward. They’re so close, bodies pressed together enough for Simon to all but lose his mind but he waits, eyes on Jace, letting him make or break this.

He counts in his head, _one Mississippi, two Mississippi_ and then Jace is grabbing his face, finally _finally_ kissing him. Simon’s eyes slide shut on instinct, hand dropping from Jace’s chest to find his waist, solid and _real._ Because this is happening, _they_ are happening, mouths moving with weeks’ worth of urgency.

Jace wastes no more time, backing Simon against a wall, stepping into his space until there’s nothing between them.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Jace admits, voice rough in this way that makes Simon go in for more, letting his hands wander, smoothing across muscles he’s seen and can only now touch. Jace kisses harder, little breathy moans starting to escape as he grabs at Simon’s ass.

And it’s what they do well, zero to one hundred in a flash, only breaking apart at the knock on the door doubling as their five-minute call for the cocktail party.

“Well, shit,” Simon says eloquently, considering that counting breathing technique to calm down.

“Yeah,” Jace says, sounding just as wrecked and they don’t move.

Maybe, if life were fair, they’d have spent the night learning all the different ways to make each other fall apart. But it’s not and they’re stuck changing fast, sneaking looks between drinks and conversation with Clary **-** which should be awkward, especially when Bat keeps pushing them together like some unruly matchmaker, but Simon can’t stop smiling, eyes all crinkly and Jace is completely gone.

The rose ceremony is always tense now that actual feelings are involved but tonight is worse than the others. Simon’s never wanted a rose so bad and the thought of leaving now makes him sick. He’s busy spiralling when he feels Jace’s hand brush his, grabbing hold and squeezing. It’s just for a second but it gets him through the few names called before he hears his own.

He's relieved, sure, but it means nothing if he’s here alone so he waits, needing Jace to join him on the staying side.

Clary takes her time, building the drama like it’s written in her contract before finally giving her last rose to Jace. Duncan turns haughty, refusing a goodbye hug from Clary and insisting he was ready to go. The camera guys follow his storm out and then ask for a few interviews, getting specific people to hang back and react.

Jace is the first victim, having been in the bottom two. After the twelfth question he's ready to tell everyone to fuck off so he can go kiss Simon silly but he can't leave the next one unanswered.

“Did helping Simon on the group date sabotage your time with Clary? Do you think you made the wrong choice?”

Jace shakes his head automatically. “No,” he says firmly, like any of that matters anymore. “I’d do it all over again.”

Because Simon is the easy choice - his only choice and this week he's going to prove just that. 


End file.
